


Some of Us Share

by Arimanes (Kara_Sevda)



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kara_Sevda/pseuds/Arimanes
Summary: The youngest Daughter of Heaven, Princess Alina Kir-Taban, was not deformed as far as he could tell from one skimming glance at her.  She was simply a small-breasted slip of a girl, which meant she wouldn’t distract the King’s attention from Genya at least.  In all aspects, she seemed as unremarkable as any other member of royalty he’d ever encountered.  The jewels glimmering from the comb in her hair and dripping along the delicate gold strings framing her face were the most noticeable attribute of her appearance at the moment, though she had fine dark eyes...which were peering straight in his direction.He wondered if any Shu folklore featured him as the monster.
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov/Alina Starkov, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov
Comments: 16
Kudos: 56





	Some of Us Share

**Author's Note:**

> Still no Netflix content? Guess I gotta drabble out my frustration then.
> 
> Referencing everything from King of Scars to Marie Antoinette to Pride & Prejudice.

  
  


“The Queen is upset,” Genya informed him one spring evening, having just slipped away from their spoiled sovereign’s presence.

Aleksander did not look up from the map spread out before him, instead plucking a pin from the Petrazoi mountains to move it closer to an outpost west of Chernast. Genya knew how little he cared for unfiltered court gossip. What she brought him then had to be noteworthy information either related to the King or to either of his sons, more likely the younger princeling if the Queen was truly upset. 

“They’re going to marry Nikolai off.”

Gaze still contemplating the expanse of northern Tsibeya, Aleksander pinned another regiment closer to the Fjerdan border. Wedding the younger prince off ahead of any match for Vasily...the only way that wouldn’t offend the elder was if whoever the chosen bride was, her pedigree was distinguished enough to bring some advantage, but not to such an extent that Vasily would feel disfavored. Threatened. “Would I be correct in wagering on a Kerch councilman’s daughter?”

“Not quite.” The corner of the Tailor’s mouth lifted slightly in wielding a grain of knowledge not yet his. “They managed to negotiate a Shu princess for him. Not the first-born of course. She’s the youngest of the Empress' daughters, and that’s why the Queen is so angry.”

He finally raised his gaze, searching Genya’s expression for clarification. The Empress of Shu had many daughters, some with her consort and some — to many Ravkans’ scandalized scorn — with her less formally designated lovers. Such had always been the right and custom of Shu’s royal line of matrilineal succession. Only the first-born daughter inherited the throne though, and he had never deemed the rest of that royal house to have any significance.

“The youngest Daughter of Heaven, Princess Alina Kir-Taban, is of half-Ravkan birth,” Genya recited. “Her father was the former baron of Caryeva. He was stationed in Ahmrat Jen for years as the Ravkan emissary and evidently well-favored by the Empress.”

Evidently. How consistently fleeting, the whims and affections of otkazat’sya, royal or not. Dismissing Genya, Aleksander returned his attention back to the map, but his eyes drifted south to the softer slopes and flowering trees of Shu. A bastard princess for a bastard prince. A targeted reminder to the Lantsov pup of how he was not meant for the throne, but it didn’t matter. Neither the prince nor his new bride would matter on the broader board anyway.

He extracted another pin to station north. 

* * *

The morning of the Shu retinue’s scheduled arrival at the border, the King — to Aleksander’s severe irritation — demanded his inclusion in the Ravkan retinue riding south to receive the royal family’s newest member.

“You will accompany us to the border to provide additional security.” The royal cretin did not dare to directly frown at Aleksander, but rather, frowned his mustache down at his ill-fitting military dress before squinting, briefly blinded by the garishly bright decorative medals.

“Moi tsar, I would better serve the crown if I were to head to Chernast with reinforcements as we discussed at the last Council briefing —”

“I have no doubt that you would terrify the Drüskelle militants from trying to cross the northern border for the rest of the year, but you know what will make the Fjeradans think twice for an even longer period? A cemented alliance with Shu Han, which is what this princess will deliver us, should we find ourselves satisfied with her. Come now, aren’t you the least bit curious if they sent us a pretty one?”

If only Aleksander could scoff out loud. A royal house’s youngest daughter would help smooth relations with Shu Han, certainly, but she would hardly amount to enough to secure an alliance with extended military benefits. 

At the King’s demand, Aleksander found himself traveling towards the southern border, the exact opposite direction of where he’d originally intended to journey that week, his mood growing more and more impatient as courtiers swarmed like overindulged flies around him.

At the border, they’d erected a needlessly elaborate blue damask tent in the middle of the forest. The majority of the diplomatic representatives from both countries were huddled near one entrance of the tent, discussing something with increasingly curt tones and sharp gestures.

“Ivan.” Aleksander waved the Oprichniki over to his side. “What’s causing the delay?”

Ivan chuckled, nodding his head at the more visibly riled Shu diplomats. “Reportedly, they’re saying that they were not informed of the bridal viewing custom until their arrival here and that the princess’ participation in this custom was not part of the original agreement and understanding. They believe that insistence on her participation would be besmirching her honor I suppose.”

Tedious and frivolous diplomacy. Aleksander’s eyes surveyed the perimeter as he mulled over whether they could leave ahead of the rest of the court without much notice. 

A red-painted carriage drew his eye. He could see someone, a girl, sitting behind the ornately carved wood-paneled sides. A gloved hand appeared on the center slit of the red flap covering the front of the carriage, lifting it aside, and Aleksander sensed instinctively that he was looking at the face, neck, and shoulders of the princess they’d all been waiting for. 

A brown-haired man immediately directed his horse to trot towards her, and the two heads bowed in close conversation. Her guard most likely, and yet, Aleksander was amused at the thought of Lantsov discovering that his new bride was not instantaneously in love with him.

The King was trying to beckon him over again.

“Your highness.”

“We have room for one more during the bridal viewing, and I think you should join us behind the partition. After all, you delivered the exquisite Genya to us. Surely, you have a keen eye for discerning ferminine charms.”

“For a servant of the crown like myself to look upon what rightfully belongs to the prince’s eyes seems —”

“Nonsense! It’s tradition. Tradition. Besides, my son hasn’t even shown his face around here today. Ungrateful boy. Determined to always cause trouble for me. Come join us for the viewing. I insist.”

“Has the princess herself even agreed to this? The Shu ambassadors seem rather adamant that she hasn’t.”

“She must soon change her mind, and they must as well. Otherwise, how are we to make sure they haven’t sent us a deformed bastard?”

“The princess,” another male voice cut in. “Is not deformed.” It was the brown-haired guard who had pressed close to her carriage to speak with her. Barely subdued anger lit the boy’s eyes as he glowered at both of them.

“Good to know,” the King said with a withering look. “And who are you to address the tsar of Ravka in such a manner without announcing himself?”

“I am Malyen Oretsev, a member of the princess’ personal guard. She has sent me to inform the Ravkan delegation that she is tired of wasting time and will participate in your...custom.” Disgust curled the boy’s pronunciation of the last word.

“Well there we have it,” the King said to Aleksander with a smug look. “You can make a woman see sense after all with some persuasive reasoning.”

If the man had not been the King of Ravka, the guardsman would have likely kicked his horse into stomping the man to death, and that sight would not have bothered Aleksander either.

Upon entering the blue tent, Aleksander detached himself from the King’s side and situated himself to lean against one of the inner walls. Like a child at a performance, the King pressed closer to the thinly woven screen partition, his watery eyes rapt for any sign of his impending daughter-in-law.

No doubt the Shu princess already despised the lot of them.

A shaft of light spread across the stretch of carpet inside the tent, and Aleksander could see a dark-haired girl step inside, treading hesitantly further into the tent. Near the halfway point of the aisle, she stopped, stiff as a doll, as Ravkan attendants surrounded her, hands immediately flitting about to strip her of her long-sleeved, high-collared red dress.

The girl brought her arms up to cover her bare chest, legs crossing at the ankles as a quiver rippled through her slight frame. He should’ve brought Genya along and volunteered her for such an assignment. The shivering princess would’ve likely appreciated the Tailor’s more gentle hands for such a transition into Ravkan courtly life.

For the most part, the princess stared hard at the light peeking through at the other end of the tent, and Aleksander did not bother to ogle like the King or the rest of the more favored courtiers permitted to enter the tent. What was the point? She was not deformed as far as he could tell from one skimming glance at her. She was simply a small-breasted slip of a girl, which meant she wouldn’t distract the King’s attention from Genya at least. In all aspects, she seemed as unremarkable as any other member of royalty he’d ever encountered. The jewels glimmering from the comb in her hair and dripping along the delicate gold strings framing her face were the most noticeable attribute of her appearance at the moment, though she had fine dark eyes...which were peering straight in his direction. 

He wondered if any Shu folklore featured him as the monster. 

Attendants were beginning to ring around the princess again, slipping a basic chemise, though of Ravkan weave rather than Shu, over her head. Aside from her dowry, nothing of her former life would accompany her across the border.

“What a plain little mouse,” the King groused as he re-approached Aleksander. “Do you think we can ask them for another one of the Empress' daughters? And perhaps a preview portrait before we trouble ourselves with traveling.”

“The minister of the treasury is already tallying the components of her dowry outside the tent, your highness. I think we may have come too far to ask for a substitution.”

“Yes, yes. I suppose she’ll be Nikolai’s problem anyway, and that boy’s always had such bewildering taste.”

Outside the tent, Aleksander eventually saw the princess again, this time fully clothed, though to his mild surprise, not in a Ravkan gown. Close-fitting boots and breeches met at her knees, not dissimilar to what Grisha in the Little Palace wore. Save for the jeweled comb, she had pulled all of the accessories from her hair. From a distance, she almost looked prepared for a fight in Yul-Erdene’s training rooms. Climbing onto the saddle of a white mare, Alina Kir-Taban nudged the horse towards — ah, of course, the mount of her besotted guardsman.

She was not the best rider, but she tossed a look over her shoulder fierce enough to halt her retinue’s agitated gestures towards the carriages. 

The guard’s head dipped towards hers again, and though Aleksander could not see her expression, the desperation on the boy’s face made him wonder if the two fools were about to attempt an elopement in full view of everyone watching.

It was the princess who ended the farewell first. Face pale and tight-lipped, she steered her mare around into a trot to join the Ravkan procession back to Os Alta. 

Aleksander lost sight and thought of her after that. He and the Oprichniki rode at the head of the retinue, trying to press the pace of the rest of the delegation forward and faster, but as the line of the horizon lit deeper and deeper red, he knew it was for naught. The addition of the dowry and the additional carriages it necessitated had considerably slowed the court’s momentum, and he guided his horse around to order a stop to make camp.

As attendants rushed to raise tents and fires for the night, Aleksander descended from his mount, coaxing the horse to proceed under the closely-knitted boughs of the woods until he reached a slope lapped by a clear-watered stream.

Another figure, small and slight, was already crouched by the water, splashing some on her face with a gasp before stroking the snowy nape of her mare as the horse drank. 

Alina Kir-Taban looked up at him as he cracked two steps of branches with his boots, making his presence known. The bow of her wet mouth, so soft in humming to her horse, turned down at the sight of him.

“Oh, it’s the monster who made the rest of us mere mortal creatures almost break our necks trying to fly back to the capital.”

Ravkan slipped from her tongue with little effort, the voice speaking it more pleasing in its chime than some native utterances. 

He executed a bow short enough to border on disrespectful before turning to pat his own horse down to drink. “Your highness. I’ve been called a monster for many things, but not for trying to rush the most important people in Ravka to safety.”

The set of her mouth turned even more challenging. “The state of governance in Ravka must not be of very robust quality if your roads are so dangerous as soon as night begins to fall.”

Another royal brat speaking of things she had no understanding of, and he couldn’t even take her over his knee for it. “I assure you, the state of governance in Ravka is secure beyond your comprehension, considering your very recent arrival.”

She fell silent for a moment, but the bright curiosity in her eyes did not dim. “Do you speak to your own royals in such a way? If so, I’m surprised they’ve kept you around so long.” 

“I suppose it would surprise you. In Shu, they would’ve hunted down my ancestors and dissected them alive before I even came to be around.”

Even in the ebbing light of dusk, he could see the flush beginning low in her cheeks, and her eyes now flared with something else resembling genuine remorse. “I didn’t mean it like that. Truly. I of all people can hardly —” Her gloved hand flitted out, almost reaching for his arm, before she just as hastily retracted it. “I’m sorry. For what I said. And for being so combative since you got here.” The pink of her lip blanched as she bit down. “It’s not because you’re a Grisha. I — I just have been in a very dark mood all day, all week really, and my thighs feel chafed raw from all the riding.”

No further blush, and he could only assume that they did not tutor her in innuendo.

He reached for the horse’s saddlebag, hand searching for a small vial. “I don’t have it on me right now, but I can bring you some salve later.”

“Salve,” she repeated slowly.

“It’s to rub on your — it will help with the pain.”

“Alright,” she said, and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly, accepting what she likely interpreted as his offer of truce. “Thank you, sir...is that how they address you at court? Or, is the Darkling both your name and title?”

“Both name and colloquial title, though most address me as General,” he said smoothly, extending a hand to help her stand. Her hand first reached for one of her gloves, wriggling it on halfway before sliding her smaller fingers into his, and she did indeed exhibit an initial limp, but what he noticed more acutely was the low, low beat of something else, a ripple of recognition under his skin.

“That seems slightly ridiculous —,” she said, voice trailing off as she abruptly withdrew her hand from his. Confusion and alarm flashed over her expressive face before she composed herself and directed a brief, much more strained smile at him. “Anyway, I thank you, General. For being kinder than I deserved tonight. You’re practically the first person to converse with me since crossing the border.”

Now that she seemed to be avoiding looking at him, he found his own eyes returning in her direction more frequently as they walked their horses back up the slope. He also felt more inclined to dispense flattery now that he suspected she was more than she appeared. “Your Ravkan is more than proficient. You could easily converse with whomever you’d like.”

Her grin turned impish. “I’m sure the people riding beside me thought me poorly tutored, but I said barely a word during today’s ride because I wanted to eavesdrop. Just a little.”

He allowed himself to reflect a slice of a smile back at her. Her own was concededly infectious. “That can be a dangerous pastime.” 

“Well, you’ve been in court for decades, or so I’ve heard. I’m sure you have your own snoops and spies to get by so you’re not poisoned or stabbed in the back.”

“I do prefer to be stabbed from the front."

Alina laughed, her shoulders lifting and her expression momentarily bright and lively again before she said more neutrally, “I heard the King wasn’t very pleased with me. With my...presentation during the viewing.”

He kept his eyes on hers. “Not everyone shares the King’s tastes, and you are not wedding the King.”

Another inquisitive glance tilted his way. “Does the younger Lantsov prince share his father’s tastes?”

“My awareness of his affairs may be rather out-of-date. I’ve only heard that the ladies at court prefer him to his brother, but what he himself prefers, not even my spies have captured such news.”

“The emissaries described him as the most handsome and charming prince on the continent.”

“Outside of fairy tales, it does not take much to be the most handsome prince on this continent, and such a description sounds like one he scripted himself.”

She laughed, eyes shining up at him again. 

The red-gold flicker of campfire caught his eye. “There is a designation of Grisha among us called Tailors. Their affinity is for cultivating one’s appearance. If you would like, I could send you the best Tailor in our court.”

Her brows arched. “To render my appearance more satisfying?”

“To make you appear more to the King’s tastes. Whenever you need to see him.”

Alina fell silent again before provocation crept back into her tone. “Does your Tailor also double as one of your spies?”

Aleksander did not avert his gaze. The Shu court may well be different in many and various ways, but the girl understood at least that all orbits of power and competition operated much the same. “The Tailor will hardly encroach on your privacy more than the maids who will clean your bedchamber.”

They had reached the forest clearing at the edge of camp, and Alina turned to fully face him, the set of her shoulders already stiffer. “Alright then. Send me your Tailor. It’s not only the King I have to impress after all. I’m sure my mother-in-law could very easily make my life unpleasant if she finds me lacking as well.”

His face tilted towards her, his voice low but assured. “You are not lacking. You are —,” 

“There you are!”

The errant younger Lantsov son was striding towards them, except he had...had his face subtly Tailored and he had not come in his best courtly dress, but rather, in a mere second lieutenant’s uniform. Aleksander held back a look of contempt. What game was the pup playing at now?

“Lieutenant Opjer.” Alina greeted him with a warm smile. “I found a nearby stream for my horse, and the General here was gracious enough to escort me back.”

“It was my pleasure,” Aleksander said to her before delivering the prince a more skeptical look-over. “Lieutenant...Opjer.”

A smirk threatened to crack through Nikolai's otherwise earnest expression. “Your highness, will you sit with my men for supper? Unlike the other circles around us, I assure you that we will not be serving squirrel for your palate.”

“Oh I’m not that picky of an eater.” Alina stepped forward, towards Lantsov, before looking over her shoulder at him, her profile lit luminous by the surrounding campfires. “I’m glad to have met you, General. I’m sure we will see each other again soon.”

Aleksander was sure as well. “Of course. Good night, your highness.”

Nikolai nodded at one of his men. “Privyet, will you please ensure the princess reaches our fire safely?”

As the others retreated from earshot, Nikolai finally addressed him. “General. Helpfully shadowing my family’s steps as always, I see.”

“Shadows can provide a great deal of protection...your highness. As for your new alias, I don’t think your father would be very pleased to hear the name Opjer circulating in his camp. I also doubt your new bride will appreciate learning about such a fictional lieutenant.”

Nikolai shrugged, eyes unflinching before he moved to rejoin his circle. “I think you of all people know how little harm there is in getting to know someone before the facades drop.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
